A Friend Like Mine
by Tari Roo
Summary: Held captive by mercenaries, Will and Elizabeth are compelled to help a desperate man attain immortality, or face the unpleasant consequences. Its a good thing they have friends in .. er.. low and rather odd places. Post AWE by a good sum
1. Chapter 1

Warning: There be Spoilers Here! AWE Spoilers!!  
Dead man tell no tales, but lives ones certainly do. The world may be a different place, but the careless stories of dead friends reach across the years to imperil Will, Elizabeth and Jack.

A Friend Like Mine

Prologue

In everything and for everything there is a natural order, an underlying inherent course that must be followed. Deviations from this course are either impossible or disastrous in the attempt. Seasons follow the last, the sun sets and rises, the moon waxes and wanes and the stars drift overhead in fixed courses. For everything a place, a rhyme, a reason.

It was this fixed order that drew Hugo Adams to the sea. If you learnt the rules, about stars and charts and weather signs and maps, you could plot your entire life out and never deviate a jot nor tittle. Hugo knew the vagaries of human kind, its tendency towards irrational behaviour and rule breaking but he thought that on a ship, a naval ship, under strict discipline and command, his compulsion for order would be met, even by the human crew.

It was on his first voyage that he learned of his error, his miscalculation. No matter how meticulous, careful or determined you were in planning and obeying the rules, the sea itself disobeyed. As a young ensign, he had clung to a battered door frame, soaked to the skin, terrified out of his mind as a storm churned up the ocean and did its level best to destroy the ship. In that moment, Adams had sworn to never again leave dry land if he lived to see it again. That oath, sworn in terror and fear, was the only one he would ever break.

Hours after the storm had passed, and he had a moment's respite from the work of righting the ship and repairing damage, Adams found himself transfixed on the deck, looking out at the horizon. As crew and officers hurried around him, shouted orders filling the air, Adams watched the sun rise over an ocean as smooth as glass. Hungry eyes devoured the sight of a freshly washed red orb pulling itself out of a mirror of water and Adams fell in love.

His moment of ardor may have been interrupted by a shout in his ear from a lieutenant and he may have nearly lost his life to gangrene on that same trip, but when Hugo Adams reached Bristol docks 5 months later, his parting look to the ocean was one of longing and promise. Longing to return and a promise to do so.

Hugo Adams never married. His career in the Navy was typical of many men in his day, of promotions as a result of superiors dying and naval battles with an array of enemies, including the odd pirate ship. Adams forgot his love of rules and order and instead found a love of wildness and unpredictability. The ocean, for all of its rules, was never the same, and each horizon offered a different perspective. Hugo Adams fully intended to die at sea.

And so it was, one evening as Captain Adams walked the deck with his Bosun verifying the log details and supplies, that death came a' knocking.

"Captain, sir!"

Adams looked up from his list, and said quietly to the Bosun, "See that you find some fresh produce at the next port." The Bosun nodded and Captain Adams turned to see Dick, his cabin boy waiting a tad impatiently.

"Yes, Dick?"

The boy straightened as his Captain addressed him and said, "Sir, Captain, its Mr Gibbs, sir. The Doctor says you should come."

With a nod, Captain Adams dismissed the Bosun and indicated for Dick to lead the way. The boy hurried below decks, dodging a few sailors who were making their way to their quarters, and who stopped to let the Captain go past them. A few lanterns broke the darkness below deck and Dick's slight figure passed through patches of light and shadow, while Adams' larger frame filled the narrow passage casting its own shadow.

Dick paused outside the Non-commissioned Officers quarters, before knocking briefly and jarring the door open with a sudden 'pop'! Following his young cabin boy inside, the Captain nodded at the Ship's Doctor who was silently packing away his instruments. His patient, the only man abed, began cough, a deep lung-wrenching hack and proved more than his wane looks that he was still amongst the living.

"Doctor?"

A tired, red-faced man, prone to sample his surgical alcohol, diluted of course, Doctor Kingsley shrugged and said, "Whatever he's waiting for, he's still with us."

Dick had slipped past the Doctor and was standing near the foot of bed, one of the few 'real' beds aboard. The young lad's face, though sun browned and weathered, looked almost as pale as the patient's. Captain Adams dragged a stool towards him with his foot and sat down near the bed, studying Mr Gibbs.

Gibbs was as about as old a sea-dog as Captain Adams had ever met. In his youth he would have been a man of broadchest and girth, and while age had not reduced him in size, his frailty was apparent in deep lines, watery eyes and a trembling he could no longer hide. A sailor all his life, both in the navy and not, this had been Mr Gibbs first and seemingly last voyage with Captain Adams.

Adams had almost refused the man, his rheumy eyes and hands of palsy hardly qualifying him for active duty aboard a naval vessel. But after a bout of illness and subsequent death among his crew, Adams had found himself short on officers and half way around the world in a strange port. Word of the need for sailors got around the port faster than the illness had spread on his ship and whatever his reservations about Gibbs' health, Captain Adams had yet to regret accepting the man aboard.

With a bellow like a bull, and the presence of a far more impressive man than he was in fact, Gibbs fell in amongst the crew as if he had always been there. Adams had made it clear that once they reached Bristol, Gibbs would be discharged but the old man had simply shrugged, as if he knew he would not live to see port. Understanding the old man's desire to die at sea, Adams had watched as the old sailor's health failed. And now, it seemed, he would soon be consigning Mr Gibbs' body to the sea.

"Mr Gibbs?"

Pale eyes, though watery, opened to stare frankly at him and Captains Adams smiled, "It seems, Mr Gibbs, that you are about to desert my ship and leave me short-handed. Again."

A chuff of air, almost a huff was followed by a deep cough, but Gibbs recovered enough to wheeze, "Sorry about that, sir, but frankly, I don't care."

The sudden arrival of two of his Ensigns, drew Adams' gaze and he saw his youngest Officers hesitate at the doorway, before moving in at his wave. Mr Gibbs was a firm favourite of the young men aboard, who he held in rapt attention with his stories of the sea, pirates and strange beasts. Half of the tales were a mixture of legend and fact, the others pure fabrication. But whatever the source, fact or fiction, the lads loved them and Gibbs. Although he'd only been with them for a handful of months, Gibbs and his stories were part of the crew. Tale though the tales may have been, the grain of truth caught even the most hardened sailor's attention. That grain was even enough for Adams to suspect that Gibbs had himself been a pirate, at some point.

Whatever his past, Gibbs with them now and his 'friends', the youngest of the crew had gathered to bid him farewell. Noticing that Dick had been joined by two more, Gibbs winked at the trio and hissed at the Captain, "They've come to see if I'm a liar."

"Really? How so?" Captain Adams asked, noting the young men flinch a little at his query.

"See, Captain, sir, these three, they know I speak true, seen it for themselves, they have. But this tale, this one, not even they can believe."

Eyebrows raised, Adams pursed his lips in mock-wonder and said sadly, "That's a shame indeed, Mr Gibbs, for three so fine a lads to be so full of doubt at such a young age."

"Aye, it is Captain, a right shame. I…" Gibbs's remaining words were swallowed by a bout of coughing and the Captain shared a brief look with the Doctor, who was leaning against the cabin wall. Doc Kingsley's eyes were dark and shadowed and he made no move to help, and Gibbs' coughs soon subsided.

"Mr Gibbs, perhaps you'd best let yourself rest, you're not…"

An old wrinkled hand with far more strength than seemed possible, gripped the Captain's hand as Adam patted Gibbs on the shoulder. Bright eyes, burning with determination enforced the softly spoken words, as failing lungs failed to provide the necessary force.

"No, Captain Adams, what I have to say is for your ears too."

Gibbs only relaxed his grip at the Captain's nod and even then did not release the Captain's hand, as if ensuring that he would anchor himself to life long enough to tell his tale.

"One last tale, Mr Gibbs?"

"Aye, Captain, one last. Only this ain't no tall tale – 'tis as true as the sun." Gibbs' voice lost a little of the breathlessness that had characterized his speech of late and he sounded more like the bullhorn of old.

"Alright," and Captain Adams settled himself a little to hear the tale. Gibbs, perhaps out of habit, or perhaps seeking a familiar audience, seemed to speak more the boys, now seated and gathered as close as they dared to the Captain.

"You've heard part of this tale before, bits and bobs of nonsense from folk in every port and even some from me. But what I tell you now, I tell you true, 'cos I was there and I saw it with my own eyes."

The boys attention was caught, even the Doctor seemed inclined to listen and as the bell for the start of the last watch ran out, Gibbs smiled softly and whispered, "For many years, I have kept the secret, though no one asked us to, we did. All of us. Every man jack who was there, on the Pearl at least, has never breathed a word. Save now. Why, you may ask? And you'd be right to ask and I can only say, 'cos here at the last, I must tell someone."

The clear tones of the ship's bell were fading but Gibbs seemed to be gaining strength as he spoke, a hue of colour rising in his cheeks and he looked almost alive, rather than half-dead as he said, "This is the tale of a journey to World's End, of the Flying Dutchman and of how Davey Jones died."

Slowly but with growing momentum, Gibbs began his tale of pirates, adventure and love and spoke throughout almost all of the last watch and the horizon was lightening with dawn's approach as he finished.

"And so, they both wait for one day every ten years, forever entwined and separated by duty and death."

His voice, after such a lengthy tale with a surprisingly small number of interruptions, finally broke and Gibbs' gave into the coughing fit that had waited so patiently. The spell broken, his audience found themselves back in reality, on a far more mundane ship than the Pearl or the Dutchman. Doc Kingsley moved to help Gibbs sit a little straighter while Adams wiped a weary hand over his face. Entertaining though the story had been, he could hardly give its fantastical, almost mythical claims any credence, but before he could say anything, young Dick spoke.

"So, will the Dutchman come for you, Mr Gibbs? Will its new Captain come fetch you, as you say… 'cos you're his friend?" Disbelief coloured his question, his body almost shaking as he stared intently at Gibbs, his hopeful shining eyes contradicting his tone.

Gibbs smiled around his coughing and nodded, "Sure enough, Dick. Sure enough, he'll come."

The trio of lads shared a look, almost unreadable to Adams, save he thought he might have a similar one on his. Common, practical sense said Gibbs was lying, or crazy, but that small part of him, the part that as a child let him believe in fairies and magic, wanted to believe again, wanted the world to be that sort of place. His young officers seemed to feel the same.

Kingsley's soothing words were the only sounds now, as Gibbs' coughs subsided and his breathing grew shallow.

"Doctor?"

"It won't be much longer now."

Silence fell over the group, and the ship's bell began to ring out the change of watch, its tones singing clearly through the dawn air. Thinking it both appropriate and ominous that a bell should be ringing as a man's spirit was about to depart, Captain Adams was about to turn and order the boys out, when a shout came from the deck above, "Ship off the port bow!"

Adams took a single step towards the door, but Gibbs' halting "Captain?" stopped him mid-stride. The title had been spoken with such respect and awe that he knew it was not directed at him, for it was only in that moment that Adams' could compare that honorific and the way Gibbs usually spoke to him and note the lack or absence of respect.

In truth Gibbs was not even looking at him, and as Captain Adams turned, he felt as if he were in dream, or one of Gibbs' stories. The dying tones of the ship's bell ringing in his eyes, Adams slowly reached for the sword at his hip as the tall man, dressed in black and red, stepped towards Gibbs. For a heartbeat, Adams wondered if they had been boarded, if they were under attack and all that stayed his hand was the knowledge that he was between the room and the door and that no man had passed by him. Yet, where as there had been 6 in the room, there were now 7.

"You came, lad!"

The stranger's face crinkled into a smile, "Of course, I did. You ready?"

Gibbs' face had a matching smile as he stared up at the man. The stranger looked as out of place in the small room as a pig in a dress at a party. His long dark hair was caught in ponytail at the nape of neck, his head covered with a scarf and his red shirt open at the neck. Adams first thought was 'pirate', for he looked the part standing amidst their uniforms. Gibbs however was struggling to stand. No one, not even the stranger made a move to help him. Doc Kingsley's face was fixed on the stranger, as were the boys.

"Am I the first?"

Gibbs was on his feet, looking a little stronger and less frail.

"No. The Pearl went down a few years ago, lost a few of the crew. Mr Cotton and such."

"Jack?" If Gibbs voice had been respectful towards the stranger, it was nigh devoted in awe to that name.

The stranger smiled again, making him seem young, as young as the boys in the room and he laughed, "Never. Tried to bargain for the ship though."

Gibbs was standing straighter and taller than he had ever had, his face looking hale and hearty in the dim light of the cabin's lantern. Adams vaguely wondered why they were all just standing there, watching, but his thought seems to slow to a standstill as he watched the growing pool of water under the stranger's black boots.

"Mr Gibbs?"

"Aye, Captain Turner, I'm ready."

Gibbs strode towards the strange man with ease, his face brightened by a huge grin. Captain Turner took his outstretched hand and together they turned to leave. Caught between a breath and a heartbeat, Adams caught the gaze of 'Captain Turner' and found a pair of eyes as black and as bottomless as the ocean staring back. A cold wave seemed to wash over him and he heard the distant crash of breakers on the shore before 'Captain Turner' and Gibbs disappeared, walking right through the cabin wall.

Stunned, Adams stared at the wall and heard Dick's gasp as the boy pointed at the bed. Turning to look, Captain Adams found that he was not surprised to see Gibbs' body still lying on the bed. The remaining five men stood in silence staring at Gibbs, until the Lieutenant's desperate shout of, "Captain, Ship off the port bow!"

Shaking his head, Adams raced up the stairs to the deck and pushed his way to the railing where his Lieutenant stood.

"Sir, there!"

Lieutenant Hammond's shaking hand directing his line of sight was unnecessary. A huge galleon was slowly sailing away, its tattered sails filled with a wind that none of them felt. Adams felt Dick and his friends push past him as they too crowded that rail. It may have been his imagination but Adams thought he saw a distant figure on the ship's deck wave back at them, before the ship itself seemed to grow transparent and disappeared.

No one on deck spoke, all eyes still fixed on a ship that was no longer there.

Feeling a little light-headed and still strangely cold, Captain Adams cleared his throat and said loudly, "Alright, that's enough. Everyone – back to work." It took a few moments, and a few more shouts from the Bosun and the Lieutenant but soon only Captain Adams and the three boys stood at the rail.

Noting their gaze was still fixed on the horizon, Adams said quietly, "Well, lads. It seems Mr Gibbs was telling the truth afterall."

Dick was hanging over the rail, his small frame leaning as far as he could as if he could somehow still spot the Dutchman. His face was shining with delight, blue eyes dancing with happiness.

"Yes, sir, yes it does."

"Back to work, lads."

"Aye, aye, sir."

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Chapter 1 –

Barbados, 2007

-'Can you see her?'-

-'Yes, sir, she is in sight.'-

-'Good. Make sure you don't lose her.'-

-'Yes, sir.'-

She was beautiful. Not gorgeous or ravishing or even stunning. Just jaw-droppingly beautiful. A little too thin for his taste, a tad-under-endowed for a self-confessed boob man but her smile more than made up for any deficiency. It was no wonder that men fought over her and it was most certainly clear as to why her husband remained so faithful. With a woman like that waiting for him, he'd be an idiot to abandon her.

Linus shifted on his barstool and leant onto the 'authentic' bar wary of splinters, nodding at the barman. The tall barman strolled over, the picture of ease and hospitality and smiled warmly.

"Get you another drink, sir?"

Returning the smile, Linus shook his head and said quietly, "Nah, mate but I'd like to send that pretty little lady at the end of the bar another of whatever fruity thing it is she's drinking."

"Right you are, sir. Shall I say who it is from?"

Linus' look of 'what do you think?' had the barman chuckling, even more so as Linus palmed him a generous tip.

Feigning disinterest, Linus watched the whole process in the mirror behind the bar. The recipient of his attention was sitting at the other end of the long bar, her gaze fixed on the horizon. The hotel bar, usually a hub of activity and socializing was surprisingly quiet with the majority of folk on the beach or in the ocean. He had the bar and the lady to himself. She, it seemed, had the ocean view of soft sandy white beaches foremost in her thoughts.

Those distant thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of her new drink and at her surprised look, the barman indicated to Linus who gave her his most charming smile.

Her look of appraisal was reserved, wary even, but as she studied him, his bare-chest in particular, she seemed to like that she saw. At her own smile, half-invitation, half-amusement, Linus picked up his own fruity concoction and sauntered down the bar.

"This seat taken?"

Her smile returned and she shrugged, "Not especially, but I do believe it may be reserved for pleasant company."

Turning a little as he hopped onto the barstool, ensuring to give her a good look at his abdominals, Linus winked as he said, "Good thing that I'm a pleasant chap, then."

She took a sip of her drink, the old one, as his 'gift' remained untouched on the bar behind her. Her attention returned to the horizon, but she shot him an occasional look of interest, obviously waiting to see what he would do.

Turning up the wattage on his 'charm' smile, Linus said jovially, "So, pretty lady, this is where I could insert any number of cheesy pick up or dead-pan one liners, or even ask you 'what's a pretty little thing like you doing in a joint like this?' but somehow, I don't think that's going to get me very far."

Still looking out at the beach, she nodded and said, "You'd be right."

"Excellent, because that means I get to bring out my 'A' game, which a woman of your beauty surely deserves…"

She remained silent, but a small smile curved her lips around the green straw as she took another sip.

Leaning in, Linus said coquettishly, "Have you ever wanted to be a pirate?"

For a heartbeat her eyes widened and she glanced at him in shock before she recovered with confusion. "What?"

"Pirates! Swords, adventure on the high seas, walking the plank, Davey Jones, Jolly Roger, … rum! Pirates!"

"Rum?" She was now staring at him with open suspicion, studying his face intently, as if searching for something familiar, someone she should know. Alas, his Nordic blonde features and bright blues failed to trigger anything and she frowned at him. "I seem to recall that pirates were a foul, loathsome bunch of murderers and thieves. Hardly a life to aspire to, …"

"Linus, Linus Schaeffer."

She stared at his extended hand, before taking it hesitantly and saying, "Elizabeth Turner."

Linus beamed at her, his delight for once genuine. It was her. Really her. "Elizabeth, I cannot believe that you haven't at some point fantasized about sailing off with a handsome pirate, leading a life of adventure and excitement. I mean… "

Again, Elizabeth looked at him sharply, again searching for something in his face, a clue. Her eyes hard with suspicion, she withdrew a little, settling herself back in her seat and said stiffly, "I may have such silly dreams as a child, all girls do a little I imagine, but reality, as is always the case, is often far different from romantic notions."

She was about to continue, to do doubt pose her own questions, but Linus 'pffed' in derision and said quickly, "Ah, come on… whether 'reality'," and he 'air-quoted' with his free hand, "matches our dreams is beside the point. The magic, the mystery lies in the idea, the dream and since pirates and their questionable ways are a thing of the past, all I offer or … ah … propose is a reenactment of those childhood games. Nothing more … ah … realistic."

Relaxing a little, Elizabeth used the excuse of taking a sip of her drink to study Linus a little longer before saying, "Pirates are hardly history, Mr Schaeffer. They are a present reality – still murderers and thieves to the core. And I think I'm a little too old to indulge in childish games."

No longer amused by him, and only feigning polite interest, Elizabeth returned to her study of the horizon.

'_Hmmm, maybe mentioning pirates wasn't such a good idea. I was sure…maybe 'too' close.. ah right, time to make with the puppy eyes.'_

Linus pasted a look of distress on his face and squirmed a little in his seat. Elizabeth noticed, but continued to sip on her now-empty drink, ignoring 'his' drink.

"Gosh, Elizabeth, I … I was just … ah… I have a boat… and wanted to take you sailing… sorry if…"

The dejected look and helpless stammering worked and Linus allowed her scrutinize him again, knowing that all she would get was 'disappointed suitor' from him. "Sure, not a problem. I should probably .. ah.."

She had extended left hand to him, flashing her wedding band just in case he hadn't seen it. He had, of course, but pretended to flush in embarrassment and a little anger. "Oh," he spluttered, "I … you accepted the drink… I …"

His smirk of satisfaction as she put down her drink and patted him awkwardly on the shoulder didn't show on his face at all. Elizabeth smiled and seemed to banish her suspicion of him as she said lightly, "I was flattered and maybe wanted a little conversation … you just surprised me with … the pirate thing. Ok?"

Regaining his equilibrium and faking a relieved smile, although in reality his smile was more a pleased Cheshire Cat, Linus laughed, "Oh, well don't worry – it was a stupid line anyway. Usually works too, just fyi."

Elizabeth smile and shrugged, "First time for everything, I guess."

Signaling the barman for another drink, Linus sighed and said dramatically, "So, I guess its just mutual holiday-maker talk then? No more flirtation? How sad."

"Indeed."

Appearing to be distracted with his approaching drink, Linus asked nonchalantly, "So, you here with your husband?" Because he was watching for it, primed for it, he saw a look of longing, of love wash over her, her eyes dart to horizon just beyond the island's edge.

Her voice echoed that same love, even though she schooled her face a little to reply, "Ah, yes, well.. he's joining me. Tomorrow."

If Linus had been a different man, he would have jumped up and danced for joy. But he was who he was and so he stayed seated and smiled instead, Elizabeth marking his excitement as opportunity to flirt with her and not its true nature.

"Really, well, then at least we have tonight." He bobbed his eyebrows dramatically, making her laugh.

Elizabeth's smile was breathtaking. "Yeah, just one night."

TBC

Reviews? Naturally, please!!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

a/n: so I saw AWE again last night and stayed till the end of the credits, saw the bittersweet ending and am in a quandary. I dislike ignoring canon, unless writing a blatant au, but Will and Elizabeth having a son kinda throws my story for a loop. However, after a lot of thought and some wonderful ideas emerging, I am happy to continue, canon intact. So, on with Chapter 2 and remember, please review.

"Really? No…"

"Its true. Honest to God!"

Linus leant back roaring with laughter, his blonde hair turned almost red in the fading sun. Elizabeth smiled, and covered her own laughter with a delicate hand on her mouth. Wiping fake tears from his eyes, Linus leant forward and hissed, "You have a decidedly wicked sense of humour, Mrs. Turner!"

She smiled knowingly and replied, "Comes from years of keeping the wrong company, Mr. Schaeffer."

"For shame, madam! For Shame! A lady such as yourself should have had everything from the best of Kings and Princes! Nothing less."

Linus watched her colour with a pleasant brush and she muttered demurely, "Flattery will get you everywhere."

"'Cept in your bed, I imagine?"

"You'd imagine right, sir." Linus laughed again, and signaled to their waiter for the bill. Their initial 'flirtation' had resulted in dinner, Linus pleading loneliness and Elizabeth admitting to the same. Although she had been perfectly vague and obscure on all sorts of personal details and history, Linus had found out enough. She had been in Barbados for 3 weeks already, was staying in a private suite on a private beach with privacy guaranteed. And on a beach that faced west. It wouldn't be hard to find her if he didn't finagle a way to 'walk' her to her room.

The reason for her longer than expected stay in Barbados remained slightly unclear but the true purpose was imminent and covertly watching her through out the day had allowed Linus to mark her regular glances at the horizon, particularly at sunset and her growing anticipation and anxiousness to leave. She remained delightful company to a fault, as if knowing that no matter how early she retired, sunrise would come no sooner.

Their waiter arrived with the bill and after a brief argument, which Elizabeth won, they spilt the bill, she handing him a few notes, and he writing his room number on the bill. "Thank you again for a pleasant meal, Mr. Schaeffer."

"The pleasure, my dear, I am certain was mutual." At her nod, Linus stood and offered her his hand. She rose gracefully, straightening her floral sarong and gratefully accepted his hand with a smile.

The sun was gone, not even a remnant of colour remained on the horizon, and stars were beginning to dot the heavens. "Would you fancy a walk along the beach, Elizabeth?"

They were standing at the 'door' of the restaurant, designated only as such by the presence of a maître d'. Elizabeth's choice of restaurant had been an open air dock-side bistro which specialised in crayfish. Linus' contribution to the evening's choice had been the wine, of which Elizabeth had had one glass, and only half of that.

Shouldering her bag, Elizabeth shook her head, her eyes scanning the quay, the lanterns hung at sporadic intervals on old mooring posts, casting poor imitations of the absent moon. "No, Linus. Thank you. I think I will head in."

"Early start?"

She didn't react to his question, taking it only as idle curiosity, and shook her head. "Not really. I actually plan to spend most of the day in bed."

Linus' huff of shock made her wicked smile broaden. "What! Waste a day on holiday in bed? That, my dear, is practically a sin!"

"My holiday, my sins, my choice. The purpose of a vacation, I think." Linus nodded, noting that her thoughts were far away, no doubt imagining her day in 'bed' tomorrow.

Interrupting her obviously pleasant thoughts, Linus said, "Well, should you change your mind and want to do something exciting, like say, sit on my boat all day, I'm docked at the hotel's pier, boat's called _'The Stranger'_."

Taking a step away from him, Elizabeth said, "Thanks but I am positive I'll be otherwise engaged. Thanks again. Night."

Before she could move, Linus had snagged her hand and had brought it to his lips, planting a feather-soft kiss on her knuckles. "Thank you."

She nodded, smiled politely, but firmly removed her hand and waved a goodbye as she made her way along the dock. "Pleasant dreams!" Linus called after her, with her answering wave lost in the crowds of tourists on the dock.

Making certain that he could still see her as she nimbly threaded her way through the early evening shoppers and hungry tourists, Linus pulled out his cell phone. He flipped it open with one hand and hit a speed dial number. While the phone made the connection, he buttoned up his open shirt with his free hand, all the way watching Elizabeth, who was now perusing the wares at sarong stand.

-'Yes?'-

"Its definitely tomorrow."

Linus slowly followed Elizabeth into the crowd, making sure that he was far enough away so as not to appear to be 'stalking' her.

-'That doesn't leave us much time.'-

"True, but we were prepared for such an eventuality. Just have the boat ready tonight and I'll take care of the rest."

-'Yes, sir, but …'-

Elizabeth was buying a bright blue sarong, with what looked like a floral pattern but she hadn't seen him. "Not buts. Just do it."

Linus flipped the phone closed, ending the call. He caught the gaze of a man dressed in a hideously loud Hawaiian shirt and indicated that he should take over. The man nodded and smoothly slipped through the crowd so that he was ahead of Elizabeth, and as she passed him with her purchase, he idly followed her, expertly blending in with the crowd.

Left behind, Linus fingered his lip thoughtfully, watching Elizabeth grow distant in the crowd. Looking upwards at the stars and then the horizon, Linus smiled, "See you tomorrow, Mrs. Turner."

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05:35am – Sunrise

_The King and his men stole the Queen from her bed_

_And bound her in her boat._

-'Any sight of her yet?'-

-'No, sir.'-

Linus, hunkered down behind a generous bush, frowned. The sun was already a golden hairline above the horizon and while sunrise itself would last for another good while, wasn't the Dutchman, with its Captain, supposed to appear at sunrise, as the sun tipped the horizon?

His men were scattered in the general vicinity of the small beach that graced Elizabeth's suite, primed and ready to move as soon as Turner appeared. As the minutes ticked past though, neither the Dutchman nor Elizabeth appeared.

Gently tapping and activating his ear piece/radio, Linus hissed softly, "Markus, can you see inside the suite? Is she even in there?"

The thought that maybe Mrs. Turner had given them the slip and that right now she was blissfully wrapped in the arms of her husband in an unknown location was distressing to say the least.

-'Sir!'-

"Yeah?"

Markus' voice was tinged with lewd humour, a not uncommon event. –'She's definitely in there, sir. Looks like she's naked under the covers.'

Scowling now, Linus growled, "And is she alone?"

-'Yep. Most definitely.'-

"Damn! What the hell is going on?" Linus resisted the urge to stand up, curse loudly and barge into her room and demand answers. Though the thought of interrogating a naked Elizabeth Turner was very tempting, Linus tapped his radio and growled, "Disengage. Markus you stick around, keep me updated on her movements, the rest of you, bug out!"

A chorus of 'affirmatives' and 'yes, sir's crackled through the radio and Linus was somewhat mollified when he failed to see any of his men leaving, evidence of their skill. Markus, obviously delighted at his opportunity to perv a little more, hissed through the radio.

-'Sir, I was wrong, she's wearing some lingerie… some damn fine lingerie! I.."

"Shut it, Markus. Just keep an eye on her, I don't want a frigging running commentary."

Linus sat down on his butt with an 'oof', angrily shoving his shoulder gun out of the way. He disconnected his ear-piece and pulled out his cell phone. Flipping open the small device, he punched in a number from memory, jabbing the keys furiously.

The lightening blue sky was growing in brilliance as the sun pulled itself free of the ocean, the shimmering colours of the sunlight on water, lost on Linus as he impatiently waited for the long distance call to go through.

A groggy voice grunted, '…lo' on the other end, eventually.

"Philips!"

-'Yeah?'-

"When the hell is the Dutchman supposed to arrive?" Linus tried to keep his growing frustration from his voice. Phillips could be difficult if caught on a bad day – or bad hour like 2am.

-'Huh?'-

"The Dutchman! When does it appear? At sunrise, right?"

Phillips' yawn nearly swallowed his words, but Linus heard them. –'….set… you douche, sunset!'-

"Damn!"

-'Why … ah … you waiting for it now… at .. what, the butt-crack of dawn? Maroon…'-

And with that Phillips ended the call, and Linus, his face red and glad none of his men could see it, slammed his phone shut and muttered, "Jackass."

Well, at least they hadn't missed it and perhaps the cover of night falling would allow them a better chance to spring their little trap. Pulling himself together, a little shaken at his error, Linus tried to think calmly about what to do next.

Frowning, Linus sat up and peered at the still bungalow where Elizabeth slept. Maybe her plan to spend the day in bed was in order to prepare for a long night … Pursing his lips, Linus considered silently that if he had only one day every decade with his lover, he probably wouldn't want to waste any of it sleeping either. Almost certain that Elizabeth wouldn't emerge for the day, as she had said, Linus plugged in his ear-piece and said softly, "Markus, you're on watch for the next 2 hours. I'll send Pug to relieve you. Shout if she leaves the room. Got it."

-'You bet boss.'-

"Out."

Fortunately, he had plenty of time to reformulate their plan and have his men in place hours before sunset.

And he'd punch the first man who said anything about the 'false' start, right in the kisser.

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7.05pm – Sunset

_The seas be ours and by the powers_

_Where we will, we'll roam._

The sand was still warm from the sun, but rapidly loosing its heat. A gentle breeze blew errant strands of hair across her face and periodically, as she waited, she brushed them aside. The ocean was growing darker as the sun set, its depths returning to the blackness of the unseen deep.

The evening star, Venus, goddess of love was sparkling in the sky, the herald of night and day, while the sun was blood-red on a hazy horizon blending sky and sea in a mass of blue.

It had long been her ritual to stand and watch for him. To 'keep a weather eye on the horizon'. As the centuries had rolled past and her day, his day, their day had arrived like clockwork, she would go down to the beach, or port, or cliff or deck the moment the sun started to sink and would watch it die. Watch as its light faded and the time grew nearer.

Without doubt the time apart was always hard, making their 24 hours all the more sweeter, never diminishing in anticipation and anxiousness. Certainly some days were filled with tears, even angry words, but they met with a kiss and departed with a kiss, already cursing that they did not have more time, and anticipating the next, treasuring the present.

Today, on this 'day' the sun was almost gone, Will's arrival only minutes away. They could meet anywhere in the world, just so long as there was a coastline, but the Caribbean was their favourite, with its memories and old friends. Maybe, if they had the time, 'spared' the time, they could do some nostalgia-themed touring. Probably not.

The beach was quiet, her nearest neighbours already at supper or at whatever night time entertainment struck their fancy. It was just her and the beach. And soon Will.

It took only a moment, but her heart leapt for joy, just as it had many times before. The sun 'set', there was a flash of green in the very same spot it disappeared and the Dutchman was in its place, swiftly making for shore.

Unbidden, she smiled and waved, knowing his eyes were already fixed on her, even if she couldn't see him. There was movement on the rigging, and she saw his silhouette as he leapt up onto the rail, one hand clasped on the rigging, the other waving at her.

No dinghy or life boat was ever lowered, mostly because the Dutchman didn't have any, its sailors in no fear or drowning, its passengers already drowned. The mighty ship, ghostly sails snapping in a wind only they felt, would sail close to the shore and suddenly, he'd be there, on the beach, in her arms.

His silhouetted figure jumped down to the deck and she tensed in anticipation, and sure enough, there he was walking up out of the surf, that unknowable look on his face.

Stomach churning, heart pounding, she ran to his arms and let him kiss her quite soundly before adding her own. The smell of brine and old wood, two of the more pleasant smells of a ship wafted over her as she inhaled the scent that was him.

They broke apart, neither for want of breath but to gaze into each other's eyes, memorizing those beloved features yet again, ensuring that they were the same, noting any differences. Hair longer, eyes as dark as ever, hands still rough – but oh so wonderful.

Smiling, she drew him close and laughed, "Centuries together and we still act like love sick puppies."

"I'll never tire of seeing you, Mrs. Turner."

A thrill like no other ran up her spine as he said those words. No matter how many people called her that, no matter that she had heard it said more times than she ever heard 'Miss Swann', hearing him claim her as his, as Mrs. Turner, still thrilled her. "Ditto, Mr. Turner."

"Ghost movie, again?"

"Yep."

"Hmmmmmmmm…." Whatever his thoughts on the matter, Will was more interested in thoroughly kissing his wife and as his kisses crept towards her ear, he whispered, "Bed or beach."

Laughing, she planted her own kiss on his ear and said, "Bed, king size, and sand free."

"Hmmmmmm…"

There was a slight 'pop' and Will suddenly jerked into her, bumping her jaw with his and then her hands were full of his shirt, trying to keep him up as he fell towards her.

"Will?"

Another 'pop' and his head snapped back with a gasp. Three more 'pop's and she was on her knees, Will wrapped in her arms, sprawled untidily on the sand.

"Will!"

Realization finally dawned as she saw a bright red dot bloom and then fade on his scarred chest as another 'pop' was heard. She looked up to see men dressed in black, long rifles and guns in hand, running towards her. Her first thought was for a sword, but as she recognized one of the men, her second was for two swords.

Will was beginning to stir, the shock of being shot wearing off, but before Elizabeth could say or do anything, Linus was at her side and shot Will in the head, twice.

The bullets did no real physical damage but gave the men enough time to pull him away from her. Her shock wearing off too, Elizabeth hesitated between reaching for Will again, despite knowing he'd be ok, and launching her own attack. Her mind was consumed with a running thought, screaming through her brain.

'Not today. Not today. Not today.'

Will was beginning to struggle against the four men holding him and as Elizabeth looked around for Linus, she found him unnervingly close, a revolver pointed at her head.

"Hello, Elizabeth."

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Reviews? Why yes, please. If you're reading this, hit the little button below and review. Ta!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

'_Lonely isn't quite the right word. Desperate either. But the month, week, days, hell minutes before sunset on 'that' day? Pure torture would be the best way to describe it. __  
Centuries of waiting, a fair multitude of 'perfect' days and no one has ever, and I do mean ever, dared to disturb us before. Not even Jack. Guess even for us, some things change.'_

Will had been shot before, had been shot at even more times, but it was usually just an annoyance, hardly worth the effort to get angry about. However, he hadn't been shot in a good long while, one of the bonuses of outliving your enemies and generally no longer being believed to exist, but either modern caliber weapons were lot a more effective than muskets of old, or he had just forgotten what it felt like to be shot.

It hurt. A lot.

And was most definitely something to get angry about.

If they would give him a chance to do so!

Each time he tried to focus on retaliating, another bullet would slam into him, usually in his head and he'd be out of it, for only a minute, but with enough 'minutes' rolled together, Will was fighting a loosing battle.

Through the fading pain, he could feel rough hands pull him from Elizabeth, and that alone was almost enough to shake the lingering effects of the last bullet. Almost. He had only a second to register the sensation of cold metal on his forehead before another blinding wave of pain overwhelmed him. Vaguely he heard Elizabeth shout.

"Stop it!"

"Whatever for, Elizabeth. It's not like it hurts… for long."

Hands, many of them, were shoving him face down on the sand and tying something smooth and hard around his wrists and ankles. In no real mood to smile, Will knew it'd take only a moment's concentration to escape those bounds … if they'd just stop shooting him long enough!

Face pressed in the sand, fortunately not needing to inhale any of the wet stuff, Will heard Elizabeth arguing with someone and then the very distinct sound of her slapping 'them' and an exclaimed, "Ow! Stop … just …"

Another two shots and Will heard no more, and it was the sensation of a cold, wet rope being tied around his neck that brought him back, seconds later. A metal clinking matched the movement of the rope, which was rough and coarse… smelled a little rank too.

"Damnit, woman, hold … still.. stop…"

Elizabeth. Will struggled to push himself up, shoulder in the sand, feet scrambling for purchase, bucking against the hands that held him down. Expecting the bullets this time, Will felt their passage through him, tissue and muscle mending even as it tore and the pain was less, manageable…

"Shit, he's not staying down!"

"Markus, you ready?"

"Almost, sir!"

"Move man!"

They were physically restraining him now, three large bodies pressing down on him, keeping him prone on the sand, the odd bullet to the brain doing less and less.

"Markus!"

"Done, sir!"

Will couldn't see what was 'done' but frankly he didn't care. He couldn't hear Elizabeth anymore.

The voice, the one who was arguing with Elizabeth, shouted, "Medallions out, now! Jones, Yates, you too. Lester, start chanting!"

A gravelly voice, rough from years of drink and hard living began to chant near his ear and Will fought harder to escape but stopped suddenly as cold, clammy hands replaced the hard, hot ones. Voices, whispers just beyond his comprehension, words that flittered away before he understood accompanied the new hands, hands that felt like those of the dead, as he pulled them aboard the Dutchman. These hands were far stronger than the 'human' ones and in greater numbers and easily kept him in place. Through the dead's earnest whispers, Will could still hear 'Lester' chanting loudly:

_FÖld nekasrof Maer abfracjiare_

_Herzen zerbrochen __Szeretet__ dégrader._

_FÖld isso donné ele garder ihn qa__u._

_Polvere iso amde ihn obliger ele qui._

_Luce et escuro __ncohe a' jour_

_Moverse il tua mina los ihn auqi. _

_Meer ti__iefe, anima uebr_

_Moeve__se i tou main los ele aqui. _

_Aceite__ usner presz tvat nuestra zeit_

_Los ihn an de sterblick reio._

Some of the words seemed familiar but their intent was not. Each of the men now standing around him had taken up the chant, their combined voices rising and falling in harmony with the ghostly voices. As the unified voices swelled into a crescendo of sound, the pressure behind the ghostly hands increased until it felt as if the very depths of sea were bearing down on him, pressing him relentlessly into the sand.

The chant reached its climax with a mighty shout, the ghostly hands disappeared but the pressure increased, to unbearable point. Unable to move, Will tried nonetheless to escape, the rushing sound of a hurricane in full flight bearing down on him.

Lester spoke a single word and Will was jerked upright with a shout as the pressure vanished and a blinding white light burst out of him, incinerating the rope around his neck and slamming into the medallions on the necks of the five men around him, the force of which knocked them off their feet. As suddenly as it appeared, the light was gone and Will slumped to the ground again, with a groan.

His ears were ringing, his head pounding but everything else felt muted. For centuries he had heard ocean's voice, felt its pull, and known it's every mood and whim, the caress of wind and rain on even the farthest sea. Tides and currents pulled at his bones, crevasses churned cold in their depths even as tropical lagoons sang of the sun in his ears. He was part of them, it, part of life and death… and it was gone.

Shaking his head, trying to clear the ringing, trying to 'hear' the sea again, Will struggled to right himself and knelt in the sand, confused. The early evening seemed so dim, so dull, whereas usually his night vision was impeccable, and the stars, no matter the pollution or cloud cover would be a breath-taking panorama of beauty and light. His limbs felt heavy, unyielding, solid, and his head was aching something fierce. He hadn't felt this … human…in years…

Realization dawned and Will stared at the men around him, of which only the blond was standing. The man looked shaken, and was visibly trembling.

"What the hell did you do?" Will demanded, his voice rough.

Linus, his own head pounding, groaned, "Magic, you twit!"

Elizabeth, bound and gagged, was trying sit up, a feat only marginally made impossible with her hands tied behind her. Remembering his own bonds, Will felt his heart drop as he tried to 'melt' through the hard, smooth rope. Nothing. The rope remained firmly in place, slowly cutting into his circulation. Stunned by the sudden turn of events, Will watched as Linus staggered over to one of the still prone men and kicked him none too gently.

"Up! Now!"

Groaning in unison, the four men stood and Linus, somewhat belatedly, scanned the surroundings to see if anyone had seen their little 'display'. Satisfied that they remained unseen, Linus barked, "Get them inside her bungalow. Now."

Feet suddenly freed, Will was dragged upright and shoved in the direction of Elizabeth's secluded room. Linus had Elizabeth in tow, and she was not making the short trip easy for him, struggling and resisting his insistent pull, frequently turning back to stare at Will, her eyes wide.

Linus strode through the open sliding door, brushing aside the white curtains and not so gently deposited Elizabeth on the bed. Will, stumbling a little after a particularly hard shove, soon joined her.

The rest of Linus' men, including the two who had been on watch, presumably Jones and Yates, piled into the room, one of them closing the sliding door, cutting off the gentle evening breeze. Despite the suite's 'luxury' proportions the addition of 7 men, in a room designed and planned for 2 made quite a crowd. But it seemed Linus and his men were far from finished and as they bustled around the room, voices a little lower than usual, setting up equipment and 'securing' the suite, Will used their inattention to slide closer to Elizabeth.

Smiling at his wife, who rolled her eyes at him, he sat as close as possible, shoulder to shoulder and with a little effort, extended his fingers enough to grasp hers and offered what reassurance he could.

Elizabeth didn't seem too sacred or anxious, but then after the life they had lead, their situation was far from the worst they'd been in. But the uncertainty of what Linus was planning and the ease, at which he had incapacitated Will's abilities, was a concern.

Will, however, had eyes only for his wife, and she had no doubt that were his hands free, he'd be running them through her hair, wiping away her worry. Glancing at their captors, who were ignoring them as present, Will leant in and whispered, "Nice bed."

Her smile, around the gag, was wide, and she mumbled something that sounded like 'told you so.' Sensing they had an audience, Will turned his head and saw Linus, chair in hand, glaring at them.

Placing the chair in front of the bed, Linus sat with a groan. "Alright, here's the low down…"

Muffled protest from Elizabeth, had Linus smiling. Shaking his head, he said, "I'll take it off, if you promise to sit still and listen, without interrupting, ok?"

Nodding, Elizabeth nudged Will, who said, "You've got 5 minutes."

Unimpressed, Linus smirked and reached forward to remove the gag. Once the material was gone, Elizabeth frowned at the after taste, but remained silent. Satisfied, Linus leant back in his chair and sighed.

"Ok. The situation before us. You, Elizabeth Turner are immortal courtesy of the Fountain of Youth. You, William Turner are the Captain of the Flying Dutchman. For all intents and purposes you are both mythological and cannot possibly exist, yet here you sit."

Elizabeth opened her mouth, no doubt to say something like 'tell us something we don't know' but at Linus' look, she closed her mouth, words unspoken, but her expression said it all.

"The exact details of how we found you are irrelevant, but our plans are not. Our client, who has paid us handsomely, is in need of your unique services."

Silence answered him and Linus continued, "Said client is very wealthy, so wealthy in fact that he could purchase just about anything or anyone, including me." Pausing for effect, Linus smiled, "Except eternal life. My client has been unable to avoid what comes to us all, except you it seems, and Death is knocking on his door. Can you see where I am going with this?"

"The Fountain of Youth."

"Correct, Mrs Turner. That is your part in this little operation. You guide our client to the Fountain, we all drink and live happily ever after literally."

Glancing at Will, Elizabeth asked, "And Will? What…"

Smoothly interrupting, Linus sighed dramatically and said, "You'd think that would be obvious. Our client wants to live forever, but from what I can imagine, and you would know from experience, immortality can get a little lonely, yes?"

Elizabeth shrugged, squeezing Will's fingers behind her back. "So, my client wants to have his wife share eternity with him … you know … true love and all. Just one problem, she died ten years ago."

Will felt Elizabeth stiffen next to him, as realization sunk in and she almost withdrew her hand from his, but instead squeezed it even tighter.

"It's not possible."

Will's quietly spoken words had Linus shaking his head. "Possible, impossible, it doesn't matter. You, Captain, are impossible. This … by your very existence, is possible."

About to argue further, Will noted his wife's continued tension and said instead, "Why do I get the feeling there is a 'and if we don't' attached to this?"

Smiling brightly, Linus practically cooed, "Because there is!"

Both Turners waited for him to continue, and either he couldn't see the amount of fear he wanted, or something else was amiss, but Linus' elation dimmed and he said softly, "Here's the ryder, people. We've made the good Captain 'relatively' human, thanks to that lovely rite. That means you two get to have not just one day, but several together."

Their disbelief obvious, Linus continued, "Be that as it may, you have an opportunity here. Help out an old guy, still in love with his wife, and get to spend, oh maybe, five days together instead of the usual one. You win, we win, its all win win."

"But .."

Talking over Elizabeth, Linus said, "But! If you refuse… be difficult, stubborn about sharing your immortality etc etc, the consequences and means with which we could persuade you …"

Dragging the chair closer, its wooden legs squeaking loudly, Linus leant forward so that he was right in Will's face. "I don't want to be too graphic, but we'd violate your wife, repeatedly and in front of you, for as long as it took for you to agree. And if that still doesn't work, we'd get creative… very creative."

If the look of anger on Will's face concerned him, Linus did not show it, and he turned to Elizabeth, who shied away a little, her face pale at his calmly stated threat. "And, for you, Mrs Turner, here is a little fun fact to keep in the back of your mind. For as long as 'hubby' here is bound by our spell, he's human – human enough to hurt. He won't heal instantly, won't regrow anything. We might not be able to kill him, but we can make him wish himself dead. And, two of my men are not above a little sodomy to round up the experience. Yeah?"

Elizabeth nodded, regaining some of her colour, her fingers firmly entwined with Will's as if she could keep him in place. It was only Elizabeth's desperate hold that kept Will from leaping at Linus, bounds or not, and smashing him into the ground.

"Do we understand?"

Both husband and wife glared at him and Linus mock sighed, "Look, its really not that difficult a decision, yeah? You play nicely, tell us what we want to know … " and he again paused dramatically, "everything we want to know, and you get to have at least five days of sun, and marital bliss …"

"Under lock and key."

Smirking at Will, Linus agreed, "Sure, but a small price to pay, I think. Hell, we'll even let you two have some sort of privacy for 'marital relations' – we'll only watch some of the time…"

Ignoring him, Will had turned to Elizabeth, who was pressed against him, her head on his shoulder. Lowering his, he whispered softly, "Elizabeth?"

"And what if we can't give you what you want?"

Looking up at Linus, Elizabeth asked, "What then?"

Linus shrugged, "You'll just have to make a plan, I suppose – or … be persuaded to…"

This time it was Will's presence at her side, that kept Elizabeth from leaping up and she hissed, "No amount of 'persuasion' can change that which cannot be done!"

Unconcerned, Linus replied, "If you mean returning someone from the land of the dead, I have two words for you, Mrs Turner. Barbossa and Sparrow."

"That was different, we …"

Cutting Will off, Linus shook his head, "The Dutchman regularly sails to the land of the dead, does it not, Mr. Turner? People have returned from the dead, correct? Therefore, ergo, etc etc – you can instruct your crew to fetch the Missus. Correct?"

Watching Elizabeth in concern, Will nodded, "Technically, but…"

"Then, it's possible. Do we have an accord, Mr… Captain Turner?"

Elizabeth's face was fixed, her expression closed and unreadable but she nodded her consent. Sighing, Will nodded too, "We have an accord."

Tbc…

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Translation of 'spell'

_Earth forsaken, Sea Embraced_

_Hearts broken, Love defaced._

_Earth that bore him, keep him here._

_Dust that made him, bind him here._

_Light and dark, night and day_

_Stay your hand, leave him here. _

_Ocean deeps, souls beyond_

_Stay your hand, leave him here. _

_Accept our price, take our time_

_Leave him in the mortal realm._

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Reviews? Why not! Bring it on!

Questions, queries, comments – I shall answer them all : )


	4. Chapter 4

**a/n: A**pologies for the long break but chapters have been written and will be posted post haste. Enjoy!

**Chapter 4 **

**2007 – Barbados**

**Elizabeth Turner's Suite**

"Right then," Linus slapped his hands on his knees, stood up, a happy smirk on his face, and said, "Summon your crew, Captain Turner, give the order and then we'll be on our way."

Elizabeth was staring at the wooden floor, intently studying the grain and pattern under layer of varnish. Will, alternately glancing at her and at Linus, said, "Summon?"

"Yes, you know, Captain of a supernatural crew and all – summon them!" Linus waved his hands dramatically in the air.

Will raised his eyebrows, a pained expression on his face and said, "Whatever the hell you gentlemen did to me has – limited – my connection to the Dutchman. I've been 'summoning' ever since you finished that rite. And judging by their prompt appearance to save the day …"

Linus frowned, "Hmmm, that doesn't bode well for either you or me. Well, I suppose they'll eventually come looking for you tomorrow after sunset, but that puts a crimp in our schedule."

The somewhat jovial man, strangely at odds with his previous threats and serious manner, seemed to think for a moment and said sharply, "I don't know if we want to risk you getting near the ocean – just in case."

Elizabeth looked up at that, her gaze intent, but not unnoticed by Linus, who smirked at her. "Sunset is too far away … would you or her being in a large amount of physical distress work? You know, draw the ghosts and zombies?"

The question was light-hearted, casual almost, but the hard, almost eager look in his eye as he regarded Will, underscored his query with real intent. Will, acting far more unconcerned than he was – it had after all been a long time since physical pain had meant anything more than a momentary distraction and his muscles still ached from the strain of the rite, shrugged and said, "I doubt it. I can hardly feel them – I imagine that it would be the same for them."

Linus looked as if he still wanted to test the idea out anyway and Will offered, "Why not wait and see if they investigate the 'difference'." At Linus' blank look, Will clarified, "In the connection, it won't feel the same as me being ashore normally would – they may come."

Making a real show of thinking about, his eyes wandering over Elizabeth, who was glaring at him quite fiercely, Linus drawled out slowly, "And risk disturbing their captain and his 24-hour sex-orgy? I don't think so. But hey, still, we'll give it an hour, we have that to spare at least. After that – Plan Pain, I think."

And with that, he left the bedroom, a parting smirk directed over his shoulder as he did so. Left with a single silent guard in one corner, Will and Elizabeth shared an awkward look, and when Elizabeth looked away, her face an emotionless blank, Will sighed.

They sat together, still pressed as close as their bonds and comfort would allow, silent but for the sounds of Linus and his men bustling around the remainder of the suite, and the distant crash of the breakers on shore.

Evening had well and truly fallen, the sun an afterthought as its distant cousins began to pinprick the horizon, their tiny lights belying their true grandeur. Elizabeth, her fingers still entwined with Will's, was lost in thought, her eyes distant with old memories. Will, however, was studying his wife, tracing the lines of her features, matching them against the memory held so dear over the years, noting that once again, she was unchanged. Still the same, usually a heart-warming, delightful thought, but now, with a moment not entirely caught up in love and excitement, her eyes not staring into his, Will had to admit that she was most certainly not the young woman he had wed aboard a pirate ship centuries ago. That Elizabeth was still there, mostly, but this one, his wife, was incalculably different – several lifetimes of experience would do that to a person. Although age did not line her face, nor spot her skin, its mark was still on her, in her bearing and composure, in her eyes. He supposed the same could be said for him, it was not possible that he remained completely unchanged – no doubt his eyes and face bore the signs of immortality.

Well aware of what Elizabeth was dwelling on, Will sighed dramatically and said, "I have to say – this not usually how we spend our first hour together. I'm fairly certain I don't like it. I highly recommend we return to form as soon as possible. Although, maybe we could keep the ropes…"

Elizabeth smiled wanly, his poor joke not really easing the atmosphere. "Nice… it's not how I imagined it either." She smiled a little, Will returning it with enthusiasm.

"Well it makes for a small change at least – we haven't been in mortal peril together for years. Its kind of …"

Some of her humour was reflected in her eyes now and Elizabeth snorted, "What? Have you been in mortal peril without me? Will, I'm shocked! Hurt even!"

Her heart wasn't in the banter, but she was making an effort, trying to lighten the mood.

Leaning closer towards her, Will huffed a breath of denial, "No – not unless one counts 'dying' to be with you again."

"Could you be any cheesier?" Elizabeth's lips were tantalizingly close, the silent guard forgotten in the headiness of Will's proximity, flesh and blood before her, not a memory any longer.

"What? Cheese? I'm a cheese?" His lips quirked in a smile, rough stubble crinkling and teeth flashing.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes in reply. "Sorry, but yes you are the cheesiest man alive… er .. you know… full of old fashioned romantic notions and one-liners, cheesy as hell."

Soft and inviting, her lips moving over words that made very little sense, and Will was close to not-caring and only vaguely muttered, "Huh?"

"Modern humour, Will."

"Right."

Modern humour aside, his Elizabeth was close at hand, her breath brushing against his cheek, her eyes dark pools behind long lashes ….

It was both the sudden movement of the not-so-silent guard and the tug of rope on skin as Will instinctively moved to touch her that brought them both back to reality. A very dismal, no touching, in mortal peril (no matter how unusual) reality.

Sighing, Will closed the distance between them, bumping foreheads gently with her and muttered something unintelligible under his breath.

"What was that?" Elizabeth whispered, certain she had heard the word 'fornication'.

"Nothing … just … "

"Muttering imprecations against our hosts?"

"Yes."

They sat that way for a few moments, simply basking in one another's presence. Elizabeth sighed, about to speak when Will said softly, "It won't work, bringing her back."

Straightening, Elizabeth looked at her husband, staring at him, as if trying to search out a hidden truth or lie. "Then why did you agree?" Her tone was cautious, hesitant almost.

Will looked a little stunned and slightly confused. He thought the answer obvious. "Because seven men are holding us captive and threatened you if I didn't?"

Pursing her lips in frustration, Elizabeth hissed, "So, you lied?"

"No…" Will glanced at the guard, who seemed very intent on 'not' listening to them and whispered, "No, the crew can bring her back, I didn't lie, it just won't work."

"Why not?" There was a world of curiosity in her voice, daring him to reply.

"Like I told you before…" Will sighed at the furious heat that rose in her cheeks and he quickly continued, "They're not the same – they have passed over, they want to stay there, they belong there."

"What about Barbosa?" It was an old question, and not for the first time did Will curse Calypso and her interfering ways.

Trying not to appear frustrated or annoyed, Will sighed, "Look, the Dutchman can bring back any number of people, willing or not, but it won't change the fact that they are spirits – ghosts - and unless you have an Elder Goddess at hand to work a little resurrection magic…"

"Only an Elder Goddess? She was bound at the time, remember?" Another old question, another bone of contention.

"Bound or not, she was a goddess and Barbosa was a walking zombie for 10 years before that, he was well used a half-life."

"I.."

Will cut her off, leaning in close and said softly, "Just trust me on this, Elizabeth – please. I know of what I speak and you would not wish that life on anyone you loved."

"But Barbosa…"

"Please?"

Silently, Elizabeth nodded, her face unhappy, eyes moist with unshed tears – tears which would never fall, never again. Still close, Will whispered, "I'm sorry, Lizzie, really I am. For a lot of things."

Smiling, she nodded, and gulped an "I know."

They sat that way for a few moments, as close as possible, and it was only when Linus burst into the room, that they parted, reluctantly.

"No sign of your crew yet, Mr Turner. Perhaps a little pain is in order?"

"It's been 10 minutes, you prick."

Linus ran a cautionary eye over Elizabeth, his mouth hard and he snapped, "Are you volunteering?"

"What happened to Mr Happy-Camper – you were ridiculously chipper ten minutes ago and now you're a wannabe Dirty Harry? Pick a psycho and be done with it already!"

Linus rolled his eyes, and snapped, "PMS-much?"

Elizabeth glared at Linus, who returned the look with equal heat, an odd tension in the air. While Linus radiated real menace, his posture lacked any real indication of threat. Will wondered whether he was skillfully or inexpertly trying to unsettle them, trying to keep them from anticipating his moods and decisions. As their staring match continued, Will coughed. They both looked at him, annoyed at the interruption.

"It's alright that none of that made sense, right?" Will whispered not too covertly at Elizabeth.

She didn't even try to cover her reply. "Yes, dear. Just terribly childish banter."

"Right."

Together they stared at Linus, who stared back. The situation would have been comical, were it not for the very real guns pointed at them, and that Linus, despite his whirligig mood changes, seemed quite capable of carrying out any number of his threats.

Eventually Linus caved and snapped, "We're not going to waste any more time here. We're moving and you, " he pointed sharply at Will, "are just going to have to make sure that your ghostly crew can find you – no matter where you are."

"Where are we going?"

His annoying smirk in place, Linus grabbed Elizabeth by the upper arm, pulling her to her feet. "It doesn't really matter, does it?"

**potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe**

**18****th**** Century – location unknown. **

_(1 year after Will's 2__nd__ 'day' ashore.)_

The sun, hidden behind a veritable wall of grey stormy clouds, was setting. The only indication of its slow passing beneath the horizon was the growing gloom as storm-wracked day gave way to storm-tossed night.

Sheets of torrential rain fell from the heavens as the hurricane-born storms swept across the small Caribbean island. The rain soaked streets of the small port were empty, every living soul shut behind closed doors, safe from the storm. Mighty waves crashed against the docks, their wood black against the grey sea. The remains of a dinghy crashed against the dock posts with each wave, the wood splintering again and again.

With all its inhabitants safely tucked away, there was no one in the small town to see a bedraggled figure fight against the wind, as she trudged down the beach towards the raging sea.

The wind whipped her hair across her face, as it tore it from her tight bun, but undeterred by her at-times obscured vision, she made her way to the churning surf and breaking waves. Uncaring of the danger, her arms wrapped around her to ward off the cold, she strode into the surf, her already wet skirts immediately soaked, their leaden weight dragging her onwards.

Once knee deep, she stopped, and staggering against the buffeting waves, fighting to stand, she stared out the unseen sunset, her eyes' gaze fixed. It was impossible to tell the tears from the sea spray on her face, only the shuddering of suppressed sobs a sign of her distress.

Battered by the sea, she waited and as the sun set, and whatever it was that she waited for, failed to arrive, her tears fell anew.

The sun was now set, and she was chilled to an icy stillness, but still she waited, waited until she could wait no more and a desperate heart-rending cry split the air, swallowed by a clap of thunder.

"Will Turner!"

Lightning spilt the air with a bright flash, her pale skin deathly white in its unearthly light. Another crack of thunder and she screamed again.

"William Bloody Turner!"

Lightning lit up the sky, the jagged rocks of the head-land black in silhouette and still nothing.

"Will!"

Eyes frantically searching the horizon, Elizabeth shouted again, "Come on, Will, please. I need you!"

She almost missed it, despite anxiously waiting for that very sign. The green flash was practically drowned by the storm's lightning but her heart leapt as the lightning briefly illuminated the silhouette of the Dutchman before the night swallowed it again.

"Will!"

And then he was there, striding up of the waves, impervious to their force, in his natural element. A rather large wave nearly bowled her over, but even as she fought to stand, his strangely warm arms caught her and she was in his embrace, safe from the storm. Usually he was slightly cooler than normal but here, in the midst of the icy sea, he was a harbour of warmth and love. Wrapping her arms around him, face pressed against his chest, Elizabeth listened for the heart beat she knew she wouldn't hear.

Safe at last, her husband here, Elizabeth felt the warm tears flow down her face, the long suppressed sobs bubbling up and Will held her as she cried.

"He's gone, Will. He's gone."

The yawning sense of loss was barely held at bay as Will tightened his hold on her and she barely heard his whispered litany of comfort, her heart pounding loudly as if trying to down out the words. The raging storm seemed to shrink back, leaving them an island of calm, walled off by their grief.

"He's gone."

"I know."

His shirt felt rough against her cheek, his skin soft as he touched her face gently. Turning her face to look up at him, his dark eyes as filled with grief like hers, she felt none of the joy that seeing him again so soon might have once done. Blinking away the rain, shaking her hair from her face, Elizabeth looked in the face she loved.

"Bring him back."

The words seemed to hang in the air, swirling around them in the wind, Will's face a picture of grief. He made no move to obey, only tightened his grip on his wife, as if to hold her in place, brace her against the storm and him her words.

"Bring him back, Will."

He was wearing black, she noticed at last, his hair dark in the rain, his eyes black pools of misery. Nothing of the sun remained, not even in his usually sun-darkened skin. He was a pale as she, lips blue with cold. But still he stood, a rock in the sea, unmoving – miserable. A glow of anger touched her cheeks.

"Bring him back, Will!"

Her tone at first desperate was now forceful, demanding. She was opening her mouth to refuse even as he shook his head.

"I cannot."

Even though his arms were still wrapped around her, she shoved against him in anger.

"Bring. Him. Back."

Each word was a statement, a law irrevocably decreed. Bright eyes flashing with anger, tainted with grief. She stared at Will in disbelief.

"Elizabeth …"

It was a plea, to understand, to accept.

She refused.

"No! No, Will! Bring him back – you're the bloody Captain of the Dutchman, a .. a Pirate! To hell with the rules! Just bring him back!"

The distance between them grew, a mere handsbreath of space, but it might have been an ocean. It was an ocean – the one that lay between life and death. New misery etched his face, despair that he could not yield.

"I…"

"NO! Will!"

This time it was a plea, her desperation and the tears that fell into the raging sea were ones of fury, raging against his dark yet so quiet grief.

"It's not possible, Elizabeth, I…"

"I don't care, Will. Bring him back! Bring back my son!"

If there were tears on his face, she didn't care. The rain washed them away, swallowed up by the sea, just like everything in her life. His quiet desperation, his calm acceptance infuriated her. Why wasn't he already racing to fetch their son back? Why was he still just standing there?

Furious, she thumped on his chest once, then twice, then again and again and again until it felt like the pounding would never stop. All the while she cried, whether aloud or in silence, "Bring him back! He's not gone. He can't be gone. Bring him back, Will."

His hands caught her fists, stopping the rain of blows, his face betraying only grief. "Elizabeth, please… I…"

"What?" she demanded, tugging at his hold, wanting nothing more than to pound some fury into him, some action, get him moving.

"It cannot be done. I cannot bring him back. He … wouldn't…"

"I don't care! I .. just want him back, Will!"

"I am so sorry, Elizabeth…"

The dam inside her broke. It had been all she could do, not to break down and shatter into a thousand pieces when they brought her son home. The blacksmith's grave face, pale beneath dirt and ash and mud, loomed over her son's body, trying to stammer through the words that sealed her son into an early grave. Nervous horse, clap of thunder, unlucky strike. Nothing to be done.

Her son was dead. Trampled by the horses he loved, killed while learning the work his father had forsaken for high seas and love. Almost she had broken down, almost. Oh she had cried, checking his face for signs of life, but even as she laid her head on his breast, desperately seeking for a heartbeat, she had had the thought – no, the hope, that the heart that beat inside an old sea chest would be the answer, would save the day. And so, at sunset, clinging to that hope, desperate to hear her Will say the words she needed, she slipped away from the crowd of mourners and made her way to the beach, waiting, certain that he would come. Would come with her son. Of course he would. He wouldn't leave her alone, not again.

"Sorry? Sorry!"

Elizabeth yanked her hands away from his, and jabbed an angry punch at his chest. Instantly the storm seemed to rage around her again, but she barely noticed it as she shouted at him.

"Heartless Bastard! You barely knew him! Two days, Will – two days! You had two days with him and you're sorry? I had twenty one years … twenty one years of love and laughter and now… you're sorry? Its not enough .. I need more time …. Twenty one… he's only twenty one, Will. Damn it! Why aren't you angry? Why aren't you damn well racing off to be the hero? Why, damn it?"

She was away from the protection he offered, standing alone buffeted by wind, waves and rain. Will stretched out his hand, as if to call her back, but he said nothing.

"No! I don't accept it! I refuse!"

Neither buffeted nor disturbed by the waves, Will shook his head, unable to give her the answer she needed, demanded to hear. "Elizabeth…"

"NO!"

The storm itself seemed to echo her furious grief and a massive crack of thunder ripped through the sky, its companion lightning casting the pair in strange relief against the turbulent sea.

Abruptly, Elizabeth turned and began to struggle to shore, the few feet of rough surf and water an arduous distance to cross. Will moved with her, but stopped short at the break, unable to go any further.

Once on relatively dry land, Elizabeth spun around and glared at her husband. He in turn, gazed back at her, tears or sea spray still coursing down his cheeks, desperate to hold her, but held back by the ocean that separated them.

"Elizabeth …"

Her name, spoken so plaintively, so achingly that it was almost snatched away by the wind, but she heard it, recognized the plea, the need for her acceptance of their fate. Grief however still coursed through her heart, hardening it against further hurt.

"Bring him back, Will."

He visibly slumped at her words, spoken with icy command, a grieving wife to an absent husband. _Don't leave me alone._

He offered no reply, and watched as she turned her back on him and began to walk back up the beach, her footsteps heavy in the wet sand.

Once she crested the steep sand, and the narrow path back to either port or home, wending its way through tropical forest and the outskirts of town, lay before her, Elizabeth paused, and risked once last look back.

He stood there still, caught on the edge of life and death, bound to the sea and to her, unable to move between the two. He was too far away to see clearly anymore, a black specter standing solemnly amidst a raging storm, disturbed only by her demands and his own grief. She knew his eyes were on her, tracking her for as long as possible, watching her take the steps he was unable to.

"Please, Will, bring him home."

The words were soft, whispered more to herself than to him, but she fancied that he heard them, brought back on the storm winds and she thought she saw him nod and suddenly he was gone.

Looking out to sea, the vague shape of a ship calmly sailing through the storm was almost visible, between flashes of light and the rise of the waves.

Elizabeth watched until she was certain the Dutchman was gone before turning back to her lonely path.

"_Please, Will."_

**potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe**

Reviews will be, as ever, greatly cherished. And yes, they do tend to produce endorphins and happiness.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**18****th**** Century – location unknown. **

_(2 years and 1 day after Will's 2__nd__ 'day' ashore.)_

The tiny spit of an island had more beach underwater at high tide than it did dry sand, but that suited Elizabeth's purposes just fine.

Fortunately, it was high tide, the early morning sun turning the night-time-dark waters opaque, hints of purple and red fading from the sky as the sun rose. A soft sea breeze tugged at her hair, which was pulled back into long braid, the shorter strands kept in place by an old leather hat.

The sun was rising from the flat ocean, slowly emerging from its night time bath – fresh, clean and bright yellow. It was going to a wonderfully hot, clear day – until the humidity drove all sensible creatures into the shade. But for now, the air was pleasantly cool, the sand still wet and cold between her toes.

The flash of green was barely big enough to briefly colour the ocean as the Dutchman slunk into view. Silence hung over the small island, the ship too distant for its creaks and groans to be heard and as the silence continued and she remained alone on the island, Elizabeth struggled to keep her agitation at bay, resisting the urge to tap her foot, or pace, or shout angrily in his direction.

Eventually, Will walked out of the booming surf, dripping wet and still dressed in black. He reached some indefinable point, probably the tide line, and stopped, waiting for her to close the distance between them. Elizabeth remained firmly still, her face set.

"Elizabeth."

A year's worth of anguish and despair was contained in that single word, etched with so much love and devotion that it only underscored his heartfelt sorrow. Elizabeth, however, was unmoved.

She opened her mouth, then closed it, almost accepting the apology, almost demanding a better answer, almost running into his arms, almost…

Instead, she stared at him, her gaze a mixture of anger and resolve, and he at her, his gaze unreadable – for now. Sighing, and then cursing herself in the same breath for her sign of weakness, Elizabeth said softly, knowing that he would hear, no matter the distance. He had come afterall, at her unspoken call.

"I'm going … sailing … with Jack."

His confused, hurt expression was so familiar, so expected, so … Will, that she almost laughed. Almost.

"I can't …" and here her own words failed her, no matter that she had rehearsed this half a dozen times in the last 5 minutes alone, but the hurt was still so near, so vital. She fancied that he tried to take another step towards her, but in the end remained immobile.

"I … need to … " Again the words failed her, and she looked up at him, imploring him to understand what she couldn't verbalize.

His look was still one of hurt confusion and maybe a little anger, and as he opened his mouth to speak, perhaps refuse his understanding, Elizabeth quickly bit out, perhaps a little too angrily than she intended. "I gave you a year and a day, Will and still… I can't be the good little wife who stays at home … waiting .… Not when he's … gone."

" 'Lizabeth…"

"Stop saying my name like its going to make it all better!"

Shocked at her own anger, barely cognizant of his, Elizabeth bit out, trying not to shout. "You can't… won't … help so I need to do … something. Even if it's being a pirate… with Jack. Something more than… waiting to hear his footsteps, watching for his return… when it's obvious he isn't!"

She couldn't resist that small rejoinder, the little dig and as he recoiled, guilt and hurt evident in his posture, and expression, Elizabeth felt none of the satisfaction she had first imagined would result.

Realizing it was now or never, and that she couldn't drag this out any longer without losing her nerve and resolution 'not' to fly into his arms and press her face into his chest, kiss those lips…

Looking down at her feet, drawing his gaze too to the object that rested in the soft sand, Elizabeth nudged the small sea chest and said, "I can't guarantee its safety while I'm … sailing … so…"

Refusing to meet his eyes, afraid of what she might find there, Elizabeth muttered more to herself than him, "Its not that I don't want it, I do – it's just, I … would hate if something where to happen… its better that you keep it for now."

At last, she looked up, and bravely faced her husband, or so she thought, until she saw his face. Her courage faltered at his expression, and vaguely she wondered if he knew just how much of his feelings he was revealing. How someone could look so hopeful, and yet so devastated was beyond her.

"Jack?"

She had expected her own name, and nearly laughed at the jealous undertone. He was fairly twitching with frustration, probably desperately keen to reach her, probably shake some sense into her, or maybe kiss her senseless, or … just touch her. Keep her with him.

"Yes, Jack. The Pearl will be here on the morning tide. I'm … I…"

What more was there to say? She couldn't reassure him that her decision meant nothing more the need for grief to be worked through, because she was not certain of that herself. She just knew that she couldn't be land-locked, land-bound to a home silent of her son's footsteps, voice and presence. She needed the sea, its freedom, its open spaces – to breath.

Maybe a little of that need showed on her face, or Will knew her well enough to recognize it, but some of the hurt on his face faded. Or maybe he was trying not to let her see how much he hurt. Looking down at the chest, he asked, "Are you … going to bring it closer?"

Wondering what it was he had started to ask, Elizabeth stared at the chest too, wondering too if she would be able to bring it to him. Deciding that risking close proximity to him might well undo her resolve and that she would find herself in his arms before she could stop herself, Elizabeth shook her head.

"Send someone to get it. I've… got to go."

"Elizabeth!"

She had already started to turn away, suddenly desperate to be gone, away from him and all the emotional turmoil he caused. She paused, her face pointed away from him, towards the now-visible black sails cresting the opposite end of the island.

"I love you, Elizabeth. Always have. Always will."

She nodded, hoping he would see it, but refusing to face him again – unwanted, unbidden tears threatening to fall from her eyes. Getting her breath under control, trying to sound calm and determined, but knowing that she failed to do so, she said loudly, "See you soon, Will."

She started to walk away, back firmly presented to him, resolve resolute.

"Elizabeth?"

Oh, how he must hate how plaintive he sounded.

Resisting every urge to return, to turn, to stop in her tracks, Elizabeth called over her shoulder, "8 years, Will Turner, see you in 8 years."

Whether that satisfied him or not, Elizabeth maintained her steady pace up the beach, the sand gaining a little warmth from the sun already. Wondering if he still stood there – forlorn and alone, Elizabeth began the battle anew to 'not' turn around.

"The key?"

His voice was faint, distant. Alone.

Fighting growing emotion, and more stupid tears, Elizabeth shoved her hand into her breast pocket and drew out the black key. Staring at it momentarily, she waved it in the air, over her shoulder, hoping that he would see it, knowing he probably would.

Softly, she whispered, "Your heart is still mine, Will."

Whether he heard or not, it didn't really matter. Did it?

**potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe**

2007 – Unnamed Caribbean Island.

The wood of the pier creaked and groaned under their weight. The large speedboat that had brought them swiftly to the island still knocked against the pier, its moorings still being lashed into place. The trip to the island had taken the remainder of the night, and the sun was already climbing in the early morning hours.

The Dutchman was fast, but Will had never traveled quite so quickly over water before as he had in the speedboat. He had enjoyed the experience, surprisingly – no matter that Elizabeth had been kept in small cabin for most of the ride, while he and two 'guards' endured the cold air and stiff breeze above decks. She was at his side now, shoving past grumbling men until she was pressed against his side. A quick shared smile and then they were moving, directed by the occasional grunt and shove from Linus' men.

The pier was quite long, the shallow waters around the island necessitating that larger boats, like Linus' had to dock quite a distance away from the beach. The island itself was fairly non-descript, nothing particularly remarkable about it, no real distinguishing features, bar the large bungalow that sat at the start of the tree line.

They were about half way along the pier when Will felt the arrival of the Dutchman, and sure enough, all eyes were drawn to the awesome sight of a ship sailing up out of the water, as if born upwards on an unseen underwater wave. Its sudden, yet not completely unexpected arrival, had the seven armed men scrambling. Linus was barking orders, which were only vaguely understood, but by the time the Dutchman had swung around and was bearing down on the shallows, Will and Elizabeth were surrounded by a wall of armament – all guns pointing directly at them.

Linus was glaring at Will, apparently feeling that some warning should have been in order, or maybe he was just nervous. The Dutchman slowly drew alongside the speedboat, its massive frame dwarfing its modern sister. No bustling crew were visible, and it seemed that the ghostship was indeed manned by unseen spirits. There was an audible 'clank' as ancient, yet formidable gun ports sprouted long sinister looking cannons.

"Don't even think about it! We've got your Captain and unless you…"

Linus' shout faded into nothing, mostly because he couldn't think of a threat scary enough for the ghostly ship and crew – none of whom could be hurt or made mortal, and partly because a figure had appeared at the end of the pier.

"Parlay?" Elizabeth whispered, smiling at Will's grin.

Unconsciously the seven men drew back, making Will and Elizabeth do so as well, as the figure approached. Linus' shoved Will forward but drew Elizabeth to him, his glare a dire threat and direct order.

The approaching 'crewman' looked familiar to Elizabeth, the old 18th century attire strangely comforting. In fact... the blue naval jacket looked very familiar. And as he drew near enough, Elizabeth gasped, "Norrington?"

Touching a hand to an absent hat, his long dark hair pulled back into a neat ponytail, Former-Commodore Norrington nodded at his one-time fiancé.

"Mrs Turner."

"What… I …" Whatever else she was going to say, nay demand, was cut off as Linus covered her mouth with his hand, grimacing as she tried to bite it.

"Get on with it, Turner. And no trying to be clever!"

James Norrington, far from looking concerned at the situation, looked amused and said dryly, "Captain?"

Will walked forward, or rather back towards the speedboat and Norrington, gaining a little space from Linus' hot stare, still feeling the pointed attention of seven guns on his back.

"Norrington, we seem to have attracted a spot of trouble."

Smiling, Norrington nodded, "So it would seem, Captain. Shall I …" The unspoken question of summoning the rest of the crew had Linus' tensing noticeably, tightening his hold on Elizabeth. His men reacted accordingly, pointing their guns at Norrington and less on Will's back.

Will knew that his crew would be able to take out Linus and his goons without too much trouble, and both he and Elizabeth would recover from any wounds sustained, in time. And it was very tempting – the desire to smash Linus' for even daring to threaten his wife, let alone lay hands on her, was very real. But opportunities like this came around too rarely and his crew could always 'save' them once he and Elizabeth had had a few days together. And if Linus proved too unbearable, even balanced against more time with Elizabeth well … then all bets were off.

So, Will shook his head, noting with mixed amazement and annoyance that the muscles in his shoulders and arms were not happy at the prolonged confinement of his wrists. "No… we have an … opportunity here, Mr Norrington, one I am … interested to play out."

Confused, Norrington stared at Will and then Elizabeth, guessing rightly that anything 'troubling' in Will's life and thus the Dutchman's was inevitably wrapped up in the enigmatic existence of Elizabeth Turner nee Swann, he asked, "You are certain, Captain?"

"Moderately so."

Having served long enough with Will to pick up the underlying command to return if the need arose, Norrington nodded. Will, glancing back at Linus, sighed and said, "I do, however, have a mission for you."

Raised eyebrows, stance curious, Norrington waited. "Our host, Mr .. Linus, over there would like us, as in the Dutchman to go and fetch the wife of his employer, Mr …" Here, Will turned to Linus, waiting for him to supply the name.

Frowning, Linus growled out, "Johnston. Mrs Amelia Johnston."

"Maiden name?"

Norrington watched as Linus glared at his Captain, tightening his hold on Elizabeth unnecessarily and said stiffly, "Matthews."

Nodding, and smiling with mock-politeness, Will relayed the message as if Norrington were deaf, "Mrs Amelia Johnston, formerly Matthews, died ten years ago."

Now Norrington frowned, and unfortunately for Will, glanced at Elizabeth in what was a decidedly guilty fashion and hissed, "Fetch? As in bring back, here?"

Will nodded, his expression unhappy, so that Norrington knew Elizabeth was already aware of the arrangement, and judging by her expression, not happy either. "But, sir, I … you know …"

Cutting his first mate off, Will said sharply, but softly for Norrington's ears only, "I know and we explained it to them but the idiot is determined."

"But Elizabeth …"

"She needs to know, once and for all… and if this is how we do it … so be it."

"No whispering, Mr Turner! No secret plots or its Plan Pain again!"

Norrington gazed at Linus, who glared in return, and still whispering to Will said, "Plan Pain?"

Sighing, Will said softly, "They did a rite, and I'm human for a few days longer, but also human enough to hurt. He threatened to rape and torture her unless I complied."

His face red with anger, Norrington nearly took a step towards the smirking Linus, "The bastard! I'll…"

"Please, go back on board and go 'fetch' Mrs Johnston." Will said this loudly enough for Linus but then in undertone, so that only Norrington heard, "Be sure to stop by Jamaica on your way."

Frowning in confusion, Norrington raked his hand through his hair, growling, "You are certain? You don't want us to…"

"Go fetch her. Fast as you can."

It was the command of his captain, and Norrington nodded, but was clearly unhappy with the order. He nodded briefly at Elizabeth, who gave him a tight smile in return, and with a half-sarcastic, "Aye, Captain," Norrington turned and vanished, appearing briefly on board the Dutchman.

The ship remained motionless for a few heartbeats, before the sails snapped forward, billowing out with an unseen, unheard, unfelt wind, the ship slowly moving off into deeper water. Departing abruptly as it arrived, it sank beneath the waves, until no sign of its disturbing appearance remained.

A little stunned, the mercenaries on the pier were motionless until Linus shouted a belated order and Will was firmly escorted off the pier, following Linus who had Elizabeth in tow. Will watched them make their way up to the bungalow and all too soon he and his escorts crossed the threshold into the cooler, lighter confines of the entrance hall.

The bungalow was opulent to say the least, an air of antiquity and refinement garnered by the lavish furnishings and trappings of grandeur. But Will had no time to stare as he was roughly escorted through a drawing room, then dining room, then kitchen, up some narrow stairs, until he was shoved into a light, airy room, with a small balcony, and broad open French doors. A large king size bed took up most of the room, and a large tv-screen took up the majority of the wall opposite the bed. As far as prisons went, it was quite pleasant.

Elizabeth was already in the room, sitting on the bed, hands free and scowling up at Linus, who was nursing a red mark on his face. Will's escorts, after one final shove into the room, departed, leaving the Turners with Linus. Their captor was grimacing at Elizabeth, muttering under his breath and at Will's entrance, snapped around and said jovially, "So, the games afoot, plans are in motion and now you two get to enjoy a little marital bliss. And don't mind us … or the cameras." And with a forced smirk, he departed, locking the door behind him.

Elizabeth flopped back onto the bed with a sigh, and Will silently studied the room, noting any and all possible escape routes. Even though the doors to the balcony were open, a heavy interlaced security gate prevented them actually going out onto the balcony. The only other windows were too small even for Elizabeth to squeeze through, and the high ceiling, generally too high to reach comfortably. Door locked, bolted and guarded from the sounds outside – their prison was complete.

Ambling over to the bed, Will studied his wife, her long hair spread out on the white bedspread. She was looking up at the ceiling, studying it closely.

"Cameras?"

"You know – modern devices to take pictures. How they make movies and tv and photographs."

"Right. Ah … Elizabeth?"

She sat up, a strange look on her face and Will felt his heart drop a little. Forging on regardless, he wrestled his still bound hands around a little so she could see his meaning and said, "A little help?"

Standing up suddenly, she grabbed his shirt and before he had a moment to protest, she had shoved him onto the bed and he landed with an 'oof' bouncing a little on the springs. "Ahh… Elizabeth?"

Any pretence at foreplay was gone and Elizabeth was fairly glaring daggers at him. Jumping onto the bed and straddling her husband, she settled a little too heavily onto his hips for his liking, effectively pinning him, and growled, "Norrington? James frigging Norrington!"

No matter that their positions, even his precarious one was far from their usual 'foreplay' and Elizabeth's rising anger was definitely not an indication of her desire to get busy with 'marital relations', Will couldn't help but laugh, "You're sitting on me like that and you want to talk about Norrington? Sheesh… I never…"

The remainder of his attempt to lighten the mood was abruptly interrupted as Elizabeth leaned forward, resting her elbows painfully in his midriff. Smiling in a not too pleasant way, she hissed, "Hush now, husband, you have some explaining to do."

"Yes, dear."

**potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe-potc-awe**

Reviews? (sob sob) yes please … makes for a pleasant day : ) and lets me know what you think too.


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